


Your Time is Up

by TEC



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cyber Birds, Cyber Dogs, Cyber Pill Bugs, Cyberpunk, Drawn Story Prompt, F/F, He is Avenged!, Implied Child Death, It's a Trap!, Police Cruelty, Redemption, Roman References, Sci-Fi, Technically Animals, They Get Trashed, cyborg, greek references, mentions of animal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 04:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20185936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TEC/pseuds/TEC
Summary: After a tragic death gets covered up, a group of teens that were friends with the victim stick together and cause some chaos. After two years of living on the edge of a knife, they finally slip up and get caught. Now, they have to hope that fate and luck is on their side, because nothing else will get them out of there.Except...maybe a little bit of clever planning.





	Your Time is Up

**Author's Note:**

> My friend gave me another Drawn Story Prompt! I wrote this all TODAY! Because she was feeling down, and she cheers up when I make her stories. This is it, after hours of writing and looking over it. No doubt I have still made mistakes, but I am happy with the outcome nevertheless. Feel free to critique!

She jumped onto the roof, the embodiment of grace and strength. Instead of landing on her knee, like how most believe a super hero landing should be, the bulky girl landed nimbly on her heels and quickly got into a roll, spreading the devastating into the entirety of her body, instead of just her feet or, Calces forbid, on her _knees._ She recovered just as quickly as she jumped off, hopping into a standing position, only glancing back for a second, before taking off once again.

A metallic growl behind her only made her run harder, her once calm, deep breaths, quickly descending into harsh pants, her side in stitches. She jumped over the roof she was off, not taking away precious seconds by checking to see if anything waited below. Again, she rolled. Again, she stood. Again, she jumped. She skidded across slick railings, trusting the heel of her foot to keep her from falling to her death, while keeping the same neck-breaking speed.

Finally, her luck ran out, and instead of roof greeting her vision, an abyss of neon green and pink acquainted her. She felt a brief flash of panic, her vision blurring, limbs locking, breath stopping, only to recover quickly and turned her body towards the building. Her nails dug into her salvation, a simple window ledge, the metal groaning under her weight, bending ever so slightly. The person that owned this apartment would notice how their flowers and peppers were sliding towards the middle by morning.

Ledge by ledge, she adapted. A flashing series of letting go, and letting gravity do its job, only to defy it, again and again, by grabbing onto yet another mini garden of marigolds, petunias, and a series of vegetables. Her feet touched the hard cement of an abandoned alleyway, cold and damp from the poisoned rain. The bulky woman hung there, eyes closed, waiting for a succession of shrieks of metal-upon-metal, hisses of titanium against electricity, and metallic snarls from the Cerberus’. Minutes of calm awaited her, convincing her to slowly let go of her sole hiding spot, a convenient group of Detritus’ blocking her from the sight of any late-night jogger.

“Thanks rust buckets,” she said as she patted the hulking bulks. The pill bug shaped creatures purred under her touch. They were indeed pill bug-shaped, only as tall as a horse, and they had a tail, bug enthusiasts insisting that the design choice was inspired by the common earth worm, a band near the end, that acted as a “scent gland,” inspiring the theory. A longer leg to body ratio than pill bugs useful for going over large piles of trash and making them less intrusive to a passerby. Everything else was the same, the bands of shiny metal making up their exoskeleton, the antennae that detected trash from the front, and their ability to drag praise and cute points from civilians. Children even gave them hugs on their way to school, thanking their waste collectors. The Detritus’ took turns with each other, hence way they were in an alley, blocking it from people’s line of vision.

The metal creatures, like the other robot animals in the city, loved affection from the humans they benefit. A simple pet and scratch earning their trust and allowing pedestrians to ask for favors–within reason. Stories of Detritus’, Veillers and Cerberus’ attacking adults that tried, and failed, to prey on children, stopping muggings right in their tracks, getting involved with the stopping of burglaries and stopping crimes in general. Many argues that the creatures were taking their jobs, an argument for anything or anyone new. But it wasn’t that, never was, they were protecting their friends. The little boy that gave a marigold to an old Detritus, a shady car pulling up soon after, a Veiller–a general name for all the aviary inspired surveillance, the only lustrous keeper to have variations–pecking and tearing at a startled mugger’s clothes after he pulled a knife on a mechanic that gave the eagle a nice polish, a Cerberus protecting an old lady behind the counter of a bank that gave the metal German Shepard a good belly rub on her way to work that day. They didn’t care about the general populace, they cared about their job, and the ones that treated them kindly.

Oh, and the mean ones.

From “accidently” not picking up the trash of an entitled woman, that threw a can of coke at the shell of a Detritus doing its job, for a month, to a Cerberus letting a bullet graze the shoulder of its partner that liked to kick the metal dog whenever it made a noise. They were as kind as they were petty, so many learned through word of mouth and the news to not mess with or terrorize the shiny animals that kept the upkeep of the city. For those that didn’t learn…they would. The metallic keepers never put the humans in any real danger or permanent harm, just reminded them just how much people relied on these strange beings to keep this city, and many others, from ruin. It kept the population humble.

The girl gruffly mumbled her praise into the shells of her protectors and continued to pet them. Small huffs of laughter and squeaky purrs could be heard from the alley as the Detritus’ surrounded her from the front, demanding affection, some rolling onto their shells for some belly rubs. She gladly complied, needing some brief rest and distraction. Eventually, even they felt the urgency of their new friend, and moved their bulk in the tight space just enough, so that she could squeeze through. They clicked and whirred as the woman squeezed past, keeping her to their memory, to return the favor one day.

As she met the open, cold air–the body heat of Detritus’ warming the alley up considerably–she shivered and walked the first bit of where she was to go. Neon signs, some extravagant, with moving serpents and dragons, the lights feeling the mind that they were 3D and moving seamlessly, others simple open signs. Her lungs creaked from all the moisture in the air, she had to wondered how the keepers of the city tolerated it, because it must surely be worse for them. Maybe they had special filter that got rid of the moisture, before it interacted with anything it wasn’t supposed to. Or maybe they were just use to it, and she was a wimp. A wimp that can jump from six stories at a time with not a scratch, and a stitch in her side at most, but a wimp, nonetheless. It took only one look at a Cassowary, steel shining in the yellow light of a Chinese food restaurant, for her to break into a full run, everything quickly turning into a blur of colors.

She knew she had reached her destination when she heard her name being called. The voice was small one, a lilt from all those singing classes making it sound louder than it should’ve been without them. The woman knew better though, then to say that to the other lady’s face. The younger woman could be even meaner than even she. and would be than willing to shoot a gun with deadly accuracy for her family. For her, really.

A brief turning of a corner brought her to her destination, a building that had recently been abandoned, now occupied by several Detritus’ and her crew of misfits. They had to switch bases several times, only able to stay at one building before one of the almost adults or young adults did something to expose them. A flash of too-red hair was the only warning the stocky woman got bulldozed by someone that was of a much smaller build.

“Medes!” The girl screeched in excitement, not able to let go of the surprise leader of their group. Medes sighed in fond annoyance, used to the red head’s ability to somehow knock her down. She gently pushed herself up, carefully wrapping her arms around the girl’s slim waist, and hoisting her up with her. The red hair screeched again, in fright this time, and smacked Medes in the arms, demanding to be let down. The built woman denied her request, and simply walked towards the–for now–clean building.

Wolf whistles and cheers greeted them as they walked in, earning a glare from Medes from all the noise, she did not feel like moving bases again right after they moved into another. She was almost caught by the law enforcers and their loyal platinum canines. She was tired, cranky, and most importantly, _hungry. _She felt she could eat a Detritus if she put her mind to it, so for the safety of the cute trash collectors, she put her red head down, and went straight to already set up fridge. There was only some hotdog buns, ketchup, and relish–she could work with that. After figuring out what the perfect ketchup to relish ratio was, she moaned in bliss as she bit into the stale bun, quickly chugging a bottle afterwards. The girl was staring at Medes in absolute disgust, shaking her head, and even looking a little green.

“Medes! Come on! You cannot be _that _hungry!” Medes looked at her little, but intimidating, girlfriend. She then looked at her dinner, in all its green-chunked and red sauce glory. Looking back at her girlfriend, Medes slowly smirked at her, before deliberately eating the rest of the bun whole, making quite the mess. The girl shrieked in disgust, causing the boys in the group to burst out in hysterics, while the other girls looked to be in agreement with the red head. After Medes swallowed her mouthful, she joined in on the boys’ laughter, bending over herself and pounding her thighs.

After recovering, Medes smirked at her glaring girl, the smirk softening with genuine humor, “Come on, Syra,” Medes said, spreading her hands slowly surrender, “It’s just a hotdog bun with some condiments. It cannot be as bad as last mon–“

“Don’t even breathe about that!” Syra said vehemently, “I still can’t believe you actually ate chicken with motor oil, calling it honey!” She stomped her foot, trying to make herself look more intimidation than the towering girl, “I don’t care if it’s not poisonous to you, the sight of seeing you eat that junk like candy is enough to drive anyone over a cliff!” The girl glared at Medes as she heard the woman mumbled something under her breath, “What was that?” She asked.

Medes jerked up, not realizing that she had spoken out loud. Relief flooded through her as soon as she realized that Syra didn’t hear, there was no way she was going to admit to mumbling, “Only you,” to her girlfriend. She valued breathing, thank you very much!

“I–uh, I was just–uh–how beautiful, a-and right you are!” The boys hoped that she couldn’t hear their snickering from where they were sitting. She did and would remember that. Syra raised an eyebrow disbelievingly, “Stupid or dumb?” she asked, clearly asking which Medes thought she was. Medes winced, eye twitching a bit at the snickering, the girls subtly joining in, “Is neither an option?” Medes queried hopefully.

Syra opened her mouth to smart off at her long-time partner, when the wall, right next to the sleeping Detritus’ straight up _exploded_, unleashing whatever was on the other side with ease. A dozen Cerberus’, the same ones that were chasing her, coats gleaming, jumped to every available exit, giving no chance for runaways to make their escape. Armed men came storming in, as soon as the alpha, the German Shepard with a gleaming chest of silver and gold, gave a loud _Whirrr! _as the all-clear single. Medes could only shut her eyes and breathe slowly, as men pointed guns with sharp knives at the end at her crew.

She knew this was coming, what started out as a harmless parkour club, quickly turned into something of rebellion, when armed men, not unlike the very ones in front of her now, had killed her girlfriend’s little brother. It escalated when a cop hit the boy, right in the face, after the small ten-year-old had pet the man’s Cerberus partner. The Cerberus growled in warning at the man, perfectly within the boy’s rights to interact with one of his protectors. The man only said a simple phrase, unique to every Cerberus, that shut the canine off, before just…shooting the child in the head, then dragging his knocked-out partner back to his squad car. The case was thrown away, swept under the rug, the police not wanting that stain to their reputation to even exist. It had taken decades for the police to be respected and not under constant scrutiny, they could not go back to that. Even if all it took was getting rid of the corrupted cop.

The club were all friends with the small boy, even if, under Medes’ rules, he wasn’t allowed to join in on their dangerous stunts. His death rippled through everyone, the screams of a distressed, in denial, sister going to their very loyal hearts. These kids came from everywhere, to rich and poor as dirt, to innocent and downright thugs. Loyalty was something they all had in common though, so the boy’s death would be revenged, even if they had to do it themselves.

Under the cover of night, they snuck into the police department–a federal offense, because of the sensitive information in there, both on paper, and in digital folders–and tore everything to _shreds. _Evidence, gone. Computers, gears. Uniforms, now tinder. Only evidence against the seriously deranged people were left alone, common gang members and petty thieves having truckloads of more moral fiber than the cop that killed one of their own. Syra insisted on joining in on the destruction, being the one of the few to help turn off the cameras. She made them self-destruct, joining in from a distant passenger seat.

It made national news, people wondering what could make someone take such a risk. They questioned the police, who said it was just a case of vandalism. No one bought it, you only took that kind of risk for revenge, so what did the police officers, who had been clean for so long, do? It was something, but it wasn’t enough, several individuals in the now-labeled terrorist group thought it never would be. Medes took the role of the leader, officially. Not just the person that made the group, so was the “leader,” but the matriarch. She was the figurehead, the chief of every operation, the general, the icon, the commander of all the strikes they made. The where, the when, the how, all up to her, and she was good at it. Making sure that no one on either side got hurt, pedestrians either forced to steer clear, or not even in the radius. Medes had proved herself a brilliant general, despite barely reaching her twenties a year ago, and was always willing to take others’ opinions and suggestions into her plans. Particularly Syra’s.

The girl joined at fifteen, Medes being seventeen, instantly feeling attraction to each other, but only becoming official after the death of Phid, her little brother. After letting Syra drinking a bit too much, the girl came on to her, desperate for some physical affection. Medes, believing it to be the alcohol alone, picked up the girl, and dropped her on her bed, taking the couch. The morning after, Medes had woken up to a kiss, and gratitude. They had been together since, loyal to the end.

Medes was not attractive, in the traditional since, she had a very strong jaw and chin, giving her a very intimidating appearance. The turquoise hair, that she insisted upon, glowed strongly with her fear and anger. Her pink, implanted eyes, desperately searched around for any exit the Cerberus’ may have missed, however doubtful that was. She knew getting the mechanical implants was a good idea, even if it made her jaw stronger, looking chiseled from stone, the same tone as her grayed skin. The implants came with a price, she looked dead, despite everything functioning at peak condition, beyond a human body. The lack of blood going through her graying her out, only serving into making her a more prominent image. There were mechanical implants everywhere, metal rods in her legs, allowing her to jump from higher heights. Rods in her arms giving her the strength to bend metal and bulldoze through attackers. Robotic eyes, the color of blush, bestowing her vision greater than Veillers, with their impressive sight. Hardened bands steel covered her chest, like an exoskeleton, making her very bullet proof. The same metal covered any easily shootable areas, her skull had an extra layer of protection, her skin systematically stretched to make it look natural, her pelvis bones reinforced, her spine hardened. It was everything she needed, money given by the newly runaway rich kids, to make a protector. She relied on intelligence, and luck was her best friend in most cases though, strength only helping to move things along.

Syra was different though. She was not drop-dead gorgeous, she was _pretty, _even better to Medes. She was average height, towered by Medes, nonetheless. Almost black eyes complimented by her wheat-colored skin, contrasting vividly. Her red hair was natural to the dismay of her former high school. The color of crimson greeted those who saw her, the curls flowing beautifully, gliding silkily through Medes fingers. She had a wicked temper, but never yelled in anger, not true anger. She was always quiet when she was furious, able to tell between annoyance and fury quickly. Medes only making Syra that kind of angry once, after cracking the sole photo of Phid. It was one of the few times Medes cried, fear of losing her girl so quickly after gaining her affections. Medes scanned Syra quickly, her wheat skin now the color of fresh milk, in sight of all the sharp weaponry.

Syra caught Medes looking at her, and glared at the look Medes had, like she was memorizing her, because it would be the she saw of her. Syra did the appropriate thing, and flipped her girlfriend off, trying to anger her back into action, back into thinking of plan and getting them all out danger. They needed her, they need the girl they created to lead and protect them.

Then the squad leader took his helmet off.

That was enough for Medes, that was more than enough anger. She had only seen the man who killed Phid for only a second, in passing, but her memory was good and long, immediately taking in everything, down to the last dimple on his soft face. He looked smug, he knew who he was looking at, the people who were after him after killing the disrespectful brat. He looked to his Cerberus, pleased when he saw the dog glaring death at his prey, he missed the flickering of eyes once he looked away.

Screams of dismay and anger filled the building, Detritus’ scuttling away in fright as a gun shot was added to the mix.

A young boy a fifteen, one of their newest recruits, fell. He didn’t do anything, he didn’t even scream–not like the original group of fifteen–he just glared, knowing this was the man that would bring an end to him and his friends’ lives. The man took one look at the boy, before chillingly pulling out a simple revolver and firing. Now, screams of pain and remorse sizzled the air. Cerberus’ looked at them curiously, this wasn’t how terrorists reacted, this was how scared children acted. They were starting to look more closely at the group of adolescents, when their partners barked at them to stand at attention. They did as order, but couldn’t help but side-eye the group, analyzing…analyzing…

The man walked in front of the group, smirking at them smugly, Medes searched for his badge, wanting to know the name of the man she was going to rip in two. Rome, A. Rome. That was the man who killed her girlfriend’s beloved brother, who had turned the fiery red-head’s heart in two. He was going to bleed tonight.

“Good evening.” The man bowed, he had a dark complexion, that of caramel tanned from the city’s brutal summers, with a voice equally as smooth. He wore a snow-white uniform, heavily armored, with a purple sash, showing his leadership status, “My name is Alexandria Roman. You can call me Al.” He smiled a humored smile, poisoned from homicidal intentions. “I must say,” he continued, “I am heavily impressed. A group of teenagers,” he gestured to the group, “somehow managed to cause absolute grief for our _honorable _police officers, _and” _he chuckled, “got away with with. For years. What is it,” he ordered, snapping his fingers in contemplation, “how long has it been, since that faithful little stunt of yours?” He pointed to the group, waiting for an answer. When he got none, he aimed his revolver and shot, another fell. An original this time, a girl that came from a privileged life, but remained. All in the name of a little boy that needlessly died. Medes breathed a prayer; she didn’t deserve that.

The man seemed to remember once he shot the girl. Bastard. “Ah yes! It’s been two years.” He continued to stalk around the group, all the members looking like dogs at the end of their leash, waiting for it to drop so they can lunge, “Not long at all, for the average person, but a damn good impressive time to cause terror and destruction.” He now looked pointedly at the armed men around him, helmets still on. He looked at the fighters, his humored smile gone.

He kept looking at the teenagers, face completely blank, “To think, this masquerade…all for him.” Syra roared in grief when the man pulled up a photo. It was Phid, holding a Cerberus plush, the golden and silver German Shepard with its metal tongue lolling, and the boy mimicking the face cutely. His skin was only a little darker than his sister’s, lovingly kissed by the sun, instead of horribly sun-burned, like it did with Syra. His small locks were orange instead of his older sister’s blood red, his eyes a gentle seafoam green. He was even younger in the picture, than when he died, but it was easy to remember him a little bigger, his face just a tad less chubby, his face somehow even more sweet.

Alexandria, he looked at Syra, seeing the resemblance, and whispered loudly, “Looks like your time is up.”

He went to snap his fingers. Medes went to embrace Syra, Syra went to Medes, the group of brave children had their leashes dropped and went straight for the throat. Then a Cerberus did something revolutionary.

The silver and gold chested dog _literally _went for throat, grabbing onto the despicable man. Alexandria’s eyes widened in shock and terror, feebly trying to claw the metal dog off him, only succeeding in spreading his own blood across the German Shepard’s eyes, a horrifying set of war paint. His men stood stock still for a moment, not believing their eyes. Their keepers never _attacked, _they might have let a human get hurt occasionally, but they never let a human get killed, let alone do the killing themselves.

The angered Cerberus picked up the man, now still, and threw him against the opposite wall, the body hitting and falling with a sickening crunch. Medes and Syra, wrapped in each other’s arms, looked at the dog in amazement. Both would never admit to having a few tears in their eyes in gratitude. They might have done the deed, but Phid was still avenged, one way in another.

The sounds of breaking bones seemed to lure the men in helmets out of their stupor, they raised their guns, the muzzles gleaming menacingly, and attached knifes wickedly sharp. A numerous series of metallic clicks and purrs interrupted their massacre, and group of Detritus’ crashed the party, hearing the gunshots and fearing for their friend. Medes was gobsmacked, not believing that the loyalty that these keepers had for someone who simply gave them thanks and some pets. The men just stood there, not believing it, as the pill bug _tanks, _got in front of the group, the biggest standing in between Alexandria’s men and Medes and Syra. The Detritus’ that scuttled away after the explosion poked their little antennae through the hole, sensing their brethren. A bit more of an inspection was in order, so they slowly poked their hidden eyes, seeing the scene. Seeing that their fellow keepers were protecting the group of teenagers and, remembering how the now dead teenagers gave them fresh food and pets, they went to join them, adding a dozen shields to their numbers.

Medes did not need to see them to sense their fear. They were fidgeting, restless, stepping to and fro and some were even pacing. They weren’t trained for this. They didn’t sign up for this either. One of them, a woman of high standing in her opinion, turned towards her Cerberus, a pretty German Shepard, a pink scruff and blue eyes. She pointed at the teens and yelled “Attack! Kill them!”

The dog looked at their partner, no, their master. Then, they looked at the teens. They remembered, how shocked their awful was they were, stumbling over the threshold. If keepers could cry, this one would. They were whirring, and snarling, small clicks punctuating agitation. They had connected the mind of their own with their pack, replaying the awful scene. The pack was terrified and disgusted, growling at the man whenever he dared to pass, waiting joyously for him to have his badge torn away from his bloodstained fingers. But it never happened, it was the opposite instead. He was promoted, the department wanting to cover up the infamous with fame. He had gathered at team, the girl of the pink scruff-ed Cerberus as well, and they swore them for secrecy to secrecy. They oversaw tracking down the group, only getting lucky when the Cerberus’ managed to just hear screeching, vocal records matching with a Syra Hiero. The pink Cerberus regretted that now, tracking the girl down, clicking and whirring, showing their regret to their pack. The others nodded somberly, they had listened to all their humans demands, trying to please them, getting pets and praise.

This entire mission was wrong though, they knew that. They knew that from the very get go, and now the guilt was setting in. They were supposed to be partners, but instead, they were enslaved with hidden evil, listening to sweet praise. They were tricked, they were used. Instead of being equals, like all the others, the policemen not being able to stop giving compliments and showering affection to the beings that protected their humans with their life, they were insulted and beaten. They got the few bad eggs in the group. Nasty, dangerous eggs.

The armored woman stared in shock and betrayal as her Cerberus growled, heckles rising and fangs peaking out. Despite the shouted orders from their masters, the dogs continued to growl, snarl, and whirl, all while stalking to the teens, hunched over in guilt. The kids welcomed the protection with open arms, wrapping the arms around them, and scratching them, Medes and Syra screaming their praises. The Cerberus’ purred for the first time in a long time, worth it.

Medes, who had been standing, protecting Syra through all that was happening, gently tapped the large Detritus that was protecting her, it turned, “May I go over?” She asked, able to climb up and over with ease. It did more than that, it used its rounded tail as a ramp, and as she walked over, gently laid its head on the ground. Medes, Syra following behind, looked impressive as she seemed to command the creatures with ease. The people–with guns–backed away as the grey-skinned, luminous, blue-haired, pink-eyed girl walk toward them. Confidence exude from her, anger poured from her pores, death was at home in her eyes.

She looked right at the woman that gave the order for execution, the one she knew helped cover up the murder of an innocent boy, along with all the others. She turned to the body of the killer, his Cerberus standing over him, death just as comfortable with them. The alpha, sensing another, turned to her. Medes nodded in the dog’s direction, bending a knee next them. She knew the Cerberus would grieve, even if it was only what could’ve been. She bent low, picking up the picture he disgraced with his presence, giving it to Syra. The girl cried, this would not bring him back, and now she knew that the sick, twisted man had kept a reminder for his crime. Her little brother was nothing more than a trophy to him, something to brag about and flaunt.

Both turned when they felt something cold in between them. The Cerberus was looking at them, eyes shining neon yellow. Medes smiled tiredly, and bent to his level, scratching his ear. The Cerberus accepted it with a deep purr, not use to the affection. She bent down even more, and whispered in his ear, “Would you like to come home, Solis?” The Cerberus looked at her in surprise, not believing that she would be willing to partner up with the being that failed to prevent the murder of someone close to her.

Humbled, the beast bowed and looked her right in the eye. She bowed back, as low as she could, and studied his own tired optics. Shouts of betrayal came from the armed men, not believing that a Cerberus would betray the department they were supposed to serve. That was it though, they weren’t servants, they were protectors, and it was time for them to know that. Solis looked to his pack, all looking to him for guidance, he looked at the pink scruff-ed Cerberus, neglected since their creation, a string of bad luck following them with their partners. He whirled and pointed his tail to Syra. As alpha, he could appoint partners himself.

The pink dog whirled and clicked happily, trotting over, tail high to her new partner. Maybe this one would actually be a partner. Syra bent down, tears still streaming down her face, and looked at the dog. She knew just the name and whispered it into her ear. The tail wagging commenced; she was quite happy with the choice. Syra turned towards the men and women responsible for all of this, glaring wetly at them. Slowly, one by one, the dozen Cerberus went around, picking the one’s right for them, earning their own names, and syncing up with them. No one knew a Cerberus’ gender until synced up, a bit of information they kept to themselves pettily. It was the one secret they had, and it was known among the teenagers, that even if their loved ones would know. Medes and Syra would never share their dogs’ genders, the information meant to exist between partner and partner, their first little secret between them.

This was when sense _finally _came to the men and women with guns, useless without their leader, and they did the smartest thing they could’ve done. The first time, in forever, where they made a choice for themselves. No longer having their leader, or the partners they abused, they were practically mindless without direct commands, that being shone when they made no move to help their leader when he was betrayed, just standing around, waiting for an order. They might’ve even listened to Medes if she said anything. So, they did what made sense.

They ran. Fast. Very, very fast.

But, that’s not how justice worked, oh no. The Cerberus’ having had their little heart to heart with their new partners, turned on their abuser, and blocked every exit. Every. Single. One. Realizing just how badly the tables had turned, with over a dozen tank bugs and super dogs, they dropped their weapons, surrendering. As they were being rounded up, the woman that had been the first to think freely looked up. Right there, right at the only place that was being blocked, a window far too high for even Medes to jump through, stood a very agile Cassowary, platinum gleaming softly in the moonlight, and pink eyes shining mischievously. The bird looked at Medes and gave a small wink. It had caught everything, including the practical confession. It would most certainly be enough.

The woman paled and looked around. The two kids that had been shot dead, sprang up like daisies, their partners–Cerberus twins that had been synced with the connected family’s parents, the father of the boy and the mother of the girl cops, their Cerberus’ loyal even after death, syncing with their children and hiding in plain sight, providing bullet proof armor for everyone–whirling in amusement. The Detritus’, seeing that their job was done, wobbled away, the largest still chugging huge clouds of steam, pride and humored at its dramatic display.

They had been played! The woman swiveled at the sound of clapping. It was Medes, and what started as one person, soon turned into a huge wave of noise as every single thing there whooped, whirl and screamed. Even one of the duller tools in the Alexandria’s shed gave a small whoop, earning glares from the caught team.

Medes turned to them, laughing. But the laugh was not for them, and her eyes held no kindness. She practically skipped towards them, loving the flinch each foot fell caused. Smirking at each and every one of them, “Well, wasn’t that a show!” This earned another series of claps and whirls.

“You really thought that it would be that easy, didn’t you?” Medes sincerely questioned, then manically laughed when several helmets nodded. “You seriously thought, that after two _years _of escaping capture from the _best _people this country has to offer, that I would be stupid enough to make base in a building that is newly abandoned,” she started to count off her fingers, “right in the middle of the city,” another finger, ”_and _make enough noise that could cause noise complaints in a five mile radius?” She gaped at the group in disbelief. Snorting, she continued, simply wasting time, “No. No, no, no. I’m afraid my crew and I don’t have a negative IQ. Unlike you.” The crew snickered and jeered at the huddled killers, “After the most recent attack, your superiors, after realizing we weren’t actually going to hurt anyone with our stunts, managed to send us one message. Why?” She clapped her hands in front, walking back in forth, in front of the group, “We were honest, we had genuinely thought that they didn’t care, so, why not? But, they _did._” She spat at them, “Turns out, not even they knew about Phid, and were horrified at the mere thought of what that thing,” she pointed at the crumpled body, “did.”

“So,” she stalked around them, creating the sensation of being hunted, “we made a little deal. Simply really. We get evidence, him saying that he did. Let me ask, do you think him keeping a dead boy’s picture in his _pocket _evidence enough?” They didn’t need to answer that.

She laughed maniacally, “Oh! My earpiece was filled with hysterical laughter after you fell for us moving bases because one of the kids played _music too loudly._” She whipped right towards them, grinning evilly, “You fell for me ‘accidentally’ stumbling into one of your Cerberus’ patrols.” She nodded towards the pink Cerberus now named, Syco, “You fell for my _beautiful _girlfriend’s–“

“Stop it.”

“–masterful display. Word of advice?” She leaned in close to a random helmet, “When you have never even heard squealing, not once, not even a _hint_, and suddenly they’re doing it non-stop, it’s probably a trap.”

She leaned back up, surveying the damage she was causing to their precious egos. One of them spoke up, “If that’s all true, where are our superiors?” The others bursted into hysterics, almost feeling sorry for the poor, dumb sheep. Medes dignified that with a response, “Putting all this damning evidence into a nice folder to show to court. Have you tried prison food? Very nutritious I hear.” The girl that was shot, a pretty blonde, even with the broken nose, piped up, “Best part is? We’re getting _your _jobs _and _your dogs!” The woman sputtered indignantly, “Surely they wouldn’t go that far! No matter what, you are still criminals. You attacked several police stations for Calces sake!” The ‘shot’ boy jumped in, “Yes, but we were _very _good at leaving no trace, and they liked the fact that we tried to get the public’s attention, without getting everyone hurt. They were hesitant at first, but they couldn’t deny that we would make a darn good team. We were already causing so much stress on you psychos, and we didn’t even need super dogs to do it. No offence Click-Clank.” True to their name, the Cerberus clicked and clanked their indifference.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Syra stepped in, eyes glaring and gently clutching the picture of her brother to chest–some of her “acting” needed no guidance, “We were labeled terrorist, we were wanted dead. Though, just because we weren’t psychos, we didn’t lose our way or went off our path, we were given a chance to talk to the most powerful people in our country, to unmask you. Not only that, but we were praised along the way. Now, we’re getting your jobs, your partners, that you don’t deserve, we are getting everything you had and more.” She took a deep breath, quite as mouse, “I won’t ask why. I won’t like the answer. Know this though, the day you regret your actions, it will be far too late. And, you are the reason why all your equally corrupted friends will get fired. The higher ups are initiating a full background check on every cop in this country, if a one seems even a little bit suspicious, they will more than likely get locked up. They will be locked up with you, the people who damned their cushy lives with their stupidity.” Medes looked at Syra with both approval and fear, but not of her, for her. She would no doubt stay scarred from all this, even with the closure of having the man who shot Phid, dead. “If you think about it,” Medes continued, “Alexandria being killed was a mercy.”  
A ding in her earpiece sounded, and she grinned at Syra and her group, “Even though some of us have to wait, before being initiated into the force,” she grinned at the ‘shot’ fifteen-year-old apologetically, who pouted. He got shot for nothing! That was going to bruise _so bad, _“they will still earn a few medals and have the praise and gratitude until then.” That cheered him up a bit.

The duller one that whooped gazed at Medes' ear stupidly, “What was that dinging sound?”

“Oh, this?” She questioned innocently, reaching up to it. She walked up to him, giving him the earpiece. The man inspected it, turning it around in his hands, until a blinking light caught his attention. A yellow light kept flashing, the sun-colored beam going off and on rhythmically. It looked familiar to him, it took bringing it up _right_ tohis eye, ignoring the snickers at the stupid act, before it finally hit him. He dropped it, going pale, and gaped at the girl before her, realizing just how royally screwed they were.

She smiled sweetly at him, taking his hand gently in hers. Patting it, she said ferally, “Looks like your time is up.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe, I don't know why, but I LOVE sarcastic, snarky and clever characters. They don't need miracles, they make them, and I can't help but love to describe the victims of the protagonist's ire. "I'mma just take your life AND your job!"  
I love it, this is why I spend hours writing. To make sarcastic, snarky, clever characters that make the antagonists go, "Wait, that's illegal!"  
Now, if you want to know all the weird names origins, I suggest you look up an Archimedes biography. Two of the names come from his full name, I'll tell you that. I made so many references to the guy!  
I mean, super well-known inventor, cyberpunk. Match made in heaven.  
I could kiss my friend for giving me this Drawn Story Prompt, I love it so much!  
But, everyone is a critique, so if you found something unsavory, be sure to let me know!  
Happy Writing, Bookworms!


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